by Mia Scott
If you got the time
But I ain't got the time to spare
Yeah
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
There, yeah
Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Every girl an' boy
Needs a little joy
All you do is sit an' stare
Beggin' on my knees
Baby, won't you please
Run your fingers through my hair
My, my, my
Whiskey and rye
Don't it make you feel so fine
Right or wrong
Don't it turn you on
Can't you see we're wastin' time, yeah
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
There, yeah
Big tossed his bag carelessly onto the floor and stripped off his fleece as he watched and listened to Alisha, who seemed oblivious to his presence while she sang. She was so fucking talented and versatile. He'd heard her belt out show tunes and pop songs and now she was digging into some rock like it was what she sang all the time. And it was hot. Not to mention the suggestive lyrics, to which his answer was a resounding yes. He was, at the moment, super happy with his assholery that led to her singing with the band. This was going to be fun.
The song ended, and Mike and Matt were playfully bowing down to her talent, making her throw her head back and laugh. His deep voice behind her made her startle.
"That an invitation, Shorty?" he lewdly asked, making everyone in the room roll their eyes. He grinned when she frowned and then opened up his guitar case. "'Because I think you already know my answer."
"Dude—can we please just play?" James asked.
Alisha sent James a grateful smile. "I'm with James. Let's just get this over with."
He opened his mouth to tell her that she wouldn't be saying that when they slept together, but James's warning look stopped him. So he smirked instead and pulled the strap of his guitar around him. "Got anything else you want to share with us, Larrington?"
She shot him a steely look and walked past him to dig out the music she'd brought with her as well as the tambourine he'd given her. "I've got a few ideas," she informed him, passing around the music to the rest of the group.
The rest of rehearsal went off without a hitch. His crude comments were kept to a minimum and she didn't feel the need to brain him with his guitar…probably because she was having a lot more fun that she'd expected. (The tambourine really was as fun to play as it looked.) At one point during Hurts So Good, he caught her eye and smiled, not smirked, actually smiled, and she felt her pulse trip in her chest. Guess there was some truth in those lyrics. And in all honesty, she found his passion and knowledge for music to be pretty deep and that surprised the hell out of her.
After rehearsal, she quickly gathered her music, placing it neatly into her bag, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible before she did something idiotic, like forget that he was the kind of guy who screws random hobags in bar bathrooms. She made some idle chit-chat with Mike, Matt and James as she got her coat and scarf on. Telling them she'd see them on Saturday, she smiled and headed for the exit, not bothering to address the reason she was there in the first place.
Tugging her hat down as the exceptionally cold November air hit her face; she'd taken approximately four steps before he called out to her. She slowed and turned around to face him. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to deny the attraction she felt just from looking at him. Add in the singing and guitar playing and she was really in over her head. (So not ideal.)
"Larrington, what the hell?" he asked, bridging the gap between them in two greedy strides. The white hat was a stark contrast against her dark hair that fanned over the shoulders of her bright red pea coat. Long lashes framed those deep, gypsy eyes, currently looking up guardedly at him. She looked like a picture as fat snowflakes fell around them and she glanced up at the sky in wonderment, a smile stretching over her face. He kind of wanted to check to see if his junk had fallen off for even thinking such pathetically sappy crap, but when the smile reached her eyes and she looked at him and said, "I thought it smelled like snow," all happy like it was the greatest thing she'd ever seen, he sort of just told his inner dialogue to shut the fuck up already. He hitched up his guitar case on his shoulder. "Where you headed in such a hurry?"
She smiled at him, the snow blinding her to the reasons she'd fled rehearsal so quickly. "Well, now that it's snowing, I'm going to get some hot chocolate and walk around for a while."
He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up into a crooked smile. "I can't believe you like this shit," he teased, gesturing to the snow.
Alisha shrugged her shoulders. (There was that odd gesture again.) "There's something peaceful and magical about it that I love." She waited a beat. "Do you want to walk with me?"
"Hot chocolate a part of the deal?" he asked with a smirk.
She laughed. "Sure."
"Let's go," he grinned, shoving his hands into the pocket of his coat. He really needed to remember his gloves when it was this fucking cold outside.
They walked a block in comfortable silence, the noise of the city oddly muffled by the snow. As they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street, he looked over at her. "I was impressed by your vocal chops today."
She smirked up at him. "Thank you."
"This is where you say I was good, too," he prompted, nudging her shoulder.
"I don't think your ego needs any stroking, Big," Alisha told him frankly.
He bit his tongue, resisting the urge to tell her he had something else she could stroke and mentally patted himself on the back for such a feat. When she looked at him with an arched brow like she'd expected the comment to come spewing forth from his lips, he just flashed a crooked grin. His phone rang, and he fished it from the pocket of his jeans. He frowned at the caller ID.
"Hi, Cap," Big said gruffly, listening as his captain barked orders. "On my way, give me thirty." Sighing, he closed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. "Sorry—gonna have to bail on our nature walk, Shorty. There's a really big blaze downtown and they need extra men."
"Okay," she nodded, smiling softly. "I'll see you on Saturday."
"You bet," he smirked. He turned and headed for the subway.
"Hey, Big," Alisha called.
"Yeah?" he asked, turning back.
"Be careful—you know, at work."
Big smiled wickedly, slowly striding back towards her. "Worried about me?"
Alisha rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you can handle yourself just fine. I was merely being polite."
"Uh huh," he grinned. "Well, in case I don't make it, Larrington, here's something to remember me by." With lightning quick movements, he grabbed the sides of her face and dragged her lips to his. He heard her breath catch in her throat and he plunged, her lips silky and soft, warm despite the snow and the cold. His tongue brushed along her bottom lip and she gasped, drawing him greedily into her mouth. Seriously, fuck work. He wanted to stay right where he was and kiss the hell out of her in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk while the snow fell.
If Alisha's pulse had tripped over a smile, then it positively staggered and wiped out when his lips assaulted hers, setting all of her nerve endings on fire. His lips were smooth as he kissed her long and hard, the promise of things dark and rough and dangerous to come. Her knees were on the verge of buckling when he broke the kiss and smirked down at her, his eyes wild and green.
"Bye, Alisha," he murmured, chuckling at the baffled, unblinking expression on her face. He turned and hurried towards the subway stati
on.
She stood rooted to the concrete for what she was sure was a good minute before she moved and walked five whole blocks in the wrong direction, finally realizing her mistake.
Well, hell…
Chapter 10
"Knock knock," Alisha called as she breezed into the Queen K office, a cardboard carrier full of lattes for her and her two best friends in hand. She saw their heads pushed together as they scrutinized a top hanging on a dress form. From the fierce looks of determination on both of their faces, she knew from past experience that her arrival couldn't have come at a better time.
Maggie looked up and smiled at Alisha, grateful for a distraction. She and Russell had been arguing about the particular garment for far too long and it was approaching Cold War territory. "Hey, Lisha! Oh, you brought coffee. I could kiss you right now," she joked, walking over to take the proffered cup.
Russell sniffed at the top and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the tension from his body. Too much tension led to premature wrinkles and he'd be damned if that happened. "Delicious," he greeted brightly. He walked over and kissed her cheeks and took the cup from her hands. "Thank you, darling." He sipped, letting the hot beverage soothe his frazzled nerves and gave her the onceover, like he always did. "Love the boots," he declared.
She grinned over the top of her cup, used to this routine by now. "Thanks. How's it going in here?" she asked cautiously, looking over the sketches strewn along the work table. Her two best friends gave a non-committal grunt and knew she wouldn't get much more than that.
"We don't want to talk about this," Maggie began, sweeping a hand along the heap of work.
"No, we want to know what's up with you," Russell chimed in. "You've been …elusive lately."
Alisha shook her head. "I've been busy working. There's a difference. You know you're my two favorite people in the entire world, so it's not like I'd purposely stay away."
"Looking forward to the show tomorrow night?" Maggie asked. "James told me that you and Big managed to get through rehearsal without any bloodshed."
Something fluttered in her belly at the mention of his name. She'd thought about that kiss in the middle of sidewalk two days ago way too often. And every time her blood thickened and pulsed. "Um, yeah, rehearsal was fine—fun even," she responded, keeping her voice level. "I think it'll be nice to be someone other than Velma Kelly for a night."
Russell gasped, horrified. "Are you sick?" he asked, feeling her forehead.
Alisha slapped his hand away. "Don't be so dramatic. You both know how much I adore Chicago, but after a year of eight shows a week it does get a bit repetitive. Tomorrow night will just be—different. That's all." She looked to Maggie for backup, but was met with one of her steely, calculating stares. "What?"
"You need to be careful," she warned, smoothing her blonde hair behind her ear. Alisha arched a questioning brow. "Big," Maggie added.
"What about him?" Alisha sighed, bored. She knew it had been the right decision to keep that kiss to herself…she really didn't feel like getting a lecture, no matter how well-meaning it might be.
"James said he noticed a look between the two of you at band practice the other day."
Alisha chuckled at the absurdity of her statement. "A look?" she asked. "I believe that we did in fact look at each other once or twice during the course of a few hours. I also looked at James. And Mike and Matt, for that matter. You going to warn me off there? Fabs, this is what we call reaching."
"Don't be a brat," Maggie sniffed, affronted. "Look, you know how much it pains me to admit when I was wrong," she began, shooting a heated glare at Russell when he snorted, "but I was wrong to try and push the two of you together. I think Big's a fun guy, but…" she trailed off. "I know you're a big girl, so all I'll say is that you should be careful where he's concerned, okay? Russell?" she asked, imploring him with her eyes for a little help.
"Oh, I agree," Russell said smoothly, making Alisha roll her eyes like a petulant teenager who was tired of mom and dad harping on her. "You absolutely should be careful—make him wear a condom."
Alisha and Maggie both dropped their mouths open and sputtered an incredulous "What?"
Russell grinned evilly, pleased to have captured their attention with such flair. "Maggie, you stay out of it. Just because you've got a boy scout doesn't mean everyone needs one, too. Alisha, sweetie, allow me to be blunt."
"Are you anything but?" Alisha scoffed.
He waved off her statement dismissively. "You need to get laid. I'm beyond tired of you being extra bitchy lately." He studied his fingernails, mentally making a note to get a manicure after work because his cuticles were out of control. "Big looks like he could screw the bitchy right out of you." His lips turned up and his lifted his eyes to hers, arching a perfectly manscaped brow. "So, make him bag it and have fun."
Alisha's cheeks flamed crimson as she gawped at her friend. Clearly, he was a few fries short of a Happy Meal.
"Have you lost your mind, Russell?" Maggie snapped. "Did you forget that Big is the kind of guy who likes to nail sluts in crowded bar bathrooms?"
"Then it's a good thing that Alisha's limber." Glancing at the clock on the wall, he smiled. "Ooh, I've got to run. Adam is taking me to lunch. Tata!" he called, wiggling his fingers.
"Don't listen to him," Maggie said, turning quickly when Russell flounced out of the office. Her tone and crazed expression were just shy of horrified.
"I'm not," Alisha insisted, even though she had been thinking about it this week. A lot. Especially since Wednesday when he'd nearly kissed the life out of her. If he could get her going like that with just one kiss, then…it was foolish, but really, they were just thoughts, so she didn't see the harm. "Let's change the subject. How are you and James?"
Maggie's eyes went soft and the smile on her face could only be termed dreamy as she opened her mouth and gushed about her boyfriend and the romantic date he took her on the other night.
Saturday night finally rolled around and once again Big found himself backstage at a gig, tuning his guitar and waiting on Alisha Larrington to show up. But unlike the last time where he'd wanted her to show, this time he needed her to. They all did.
She was really fucking late.
He had brief moment of panic where he wondered if this was some sort of elaborate payback and that she hadn't really forgiven him, and this was her way of making him look like a complete douchetard in front of everyone. But then he remembered the look on her face after he'd kissed her senseless in the snow and knew better. Oh, she'd show up alright, he thought smugly. But she needed to and fast because they were due to start playing the reunion in ten minutes.
He was just about to pick up his phone to see what in the holy fuck was taking her so long when she rushed through the door, her dark hair bouncing around the shoulders of her red coat. "Jesus Christ, Shorty—cuttin' it kind of close don't you think?" he bit out gruffly, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He pushed to his feet and grabbed his guitar.
She ignored the tone; she was really late after all. "Sorry," she said breathlessly, tossing her bag onto a table, "technical difficulties at the theater today, so the show ran late." Popping open the buttons on her coat, she peeled it off and threw it over a chair. The nice part about feeling so rushed was that she didn't have the luxury of time to feel awkward or nervous from seeing him again AK…after kiss. She'd deal with that later. Rooting through her bag, she pulled out her lip gloss and compact mirror, deftly slicking gloss over her full lips.
Big turned to retort with something snarky, but the words died in his throat when his eyes got a load of her. Dark jeans slung low over her hips and the black tuxedo vest she wore fit like a glove and hit just past midriff, leaving an expanse of bare, golden skin visible to his roaming eyes. His fingers itched to skim over it. Tall black boots spanned to her knees and as she turned, he caught a glimpse of a red lace bra peeking out at the top of the vest behind a few open buttons. Her hair was full and wavy, and she'd done som
ething different to her eyes that enhanced the gypsy-like quality. The entire look was sex kitten meets rock 'n roll and he was on the verge of physically drooling. "Fuck me," he muttered, feeling the heat churn in his gut, his blood heading south to wake up his favorite appendage.
"Did you say something?" Alisha asked, pulling the pink tambourine from her bag.
He smirked and stepped closer, wanting a better look at her. She whirled around, her hair whipping him in the face and sending clouds of expensive fragrance up his nose. She smelled as exotic as she looked tonight, and it was mouthwateringly intoxicating. Color bloomed prettily on her cheeks and he grinned, letting his eyes slowly rake over her. "Yeah, I said fuck me, you look hot," he rasped.
His words were crude, but her pulse hammered erratically against her ribs regardless. She forced herself to remain calm as she stared up into his eyes (mossy green and amused…like a mood ring his eyes were) and respond the way he would—she smirked. "Thank you."
Chuckling softly, he smirked at her unexpected choice of words. He gave her another onceover (seriously, she was insanely hot tonight) and shook his head slightly. When his eyes finally lifted to hers again, he noticed that she was approaching annoyed, which only made him grin more.
"You done now? Your leering is bordering on creepy," she told him, her lips twitching upward, completely undermining her words.
"It's your fault for looking so damn good, Larrington," he smiled crookedly, leaning in closer. He reached out and brushed his calloused fingertips slowly down her bare arm, satisfied when he felt the goose bumps break out over her heated skin.
Alisha fought the shiver off tooth and nail, determined to not give him the upper hand. Inside, though, her blood began to hum. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked tartly, shrugging his hand away, instantly mourning the loss of contact.
"Not even a hundredth of what I want to do," he muttered lasciviously, a wicked grin on his face. She peered up at him, heat flickering in those big doe eyes. Fuck, he needed her naked yesterday. He was going to kiss her again, get another taste to tide him over until the show was finished. Then, maybe they'd just fuck each other into oblivion. (He was hopeful.) His lips were halfway to hers until dipshit Mike ruined it by bounding into the room. Alisha jumped back from him like a shot.